


Love Like a Shadow

by BlackVelvet42



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Angst, Cohen in May 2020, Episode: s05e10 Counterpoint, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:41:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23963275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackVelvet42/pseuds/BlackVelvet42
Summary: "The weak sounds from behind the bulkhead caught his attention the very same day he was assigned to his quarters on Voyager."
Relationships: Chakotay/Kathryn Janeway, Kathryn Janeway/Kashyk
Comments: 86
Kudos: 90
Collections: Caught The Darkness (Star Trek Fandom Event - May 2020)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A million times thank you, Caladenia, for organizing this second glorious Cohen month and for betaing (and re-betaing and..) this story. 
> 
> Inspired by the song ‘Paper Thin Hotel’ by Leonard Cohen.

The weak sounds from behind the bulkhead caught his attention the very same day he was assigned to his quarters on Voyager. Collapsing into bed, however, one long shift after another, he didn’t have the energy to consider the soundproofing any further. By the time their first week in the Delta Quadrant was over and the days had found something resembling a routine, the muted noises from Kathryn’s quarters had grown to be a part of his new life, creating a sense of home on a starship stranded far from anything familiar.

On most evenings, the room next to his remained silent. Her free time was as peaceful as his and only a buzz from the replicator or a clang on the table brought her presence to his awareness. He liked to imagine she was curled up on the couch, reading a book with a glass of wine beside her, but concluded that in reality she was probably working, focusing on the latest reports on the ship or the needs of her crew. Sometimes, he heard tunes of a relaxing melody, too quiet for him to recognize, or a splash of water which could only mean her taking a bath, and carefully steered his thoughts away from the dangerous trails he was tempted to follow. But having their bedrooms side by side meant that he couldn’t entirely distract himself from the more private sounds that occasionally pushed through.

The first time he realized she was crying he nearly ran to her there and then. The knowledge of her suffering alone, this amazing woman he had quickly grown to respect and care for, was intolerable, her every desperate sob stabbing his chest like a knife. But it was only months into their journey, their relationship still searching for a form, and he stopped dead in his tracks before reaching the door. Privacy was essential for everyone’s well-being, maybe even more so for a captain responsible for a hundred and fifty lost souls she had sworn to protect. The hushed noises traveling from her room might have created an illusion of intimacy, but the truth was she had not given him permission to cross the line from professional to personal. With a heavy heart, he returned to his bed and listened to her weakening tears until he was certain sleep had led her to a temporary but much-needed oblivion.

They discussed the flawed soundproofing only once, soon after her night of despair. In passing, she mentioned she had noticed some faint sounds from his quarters and apologized for any possible disturbances from her part. Sensing her discomfort and reluctance to have a more thorough conversation, he replied with a light remark that he hadn’t picked up anything that would require an apology, but if she so preferred, he would see what options there were to solve the situation. He was well aware the moment was a watershed. She could easily order the insulation reinforced or have him transferred to another deck, but to his relief, she did neither. For reasons he couldn’t clearly define, maintaining their unspoken connection, no matter how thin and fragile, was important to him. And, apparently, it held meaning for her too.

Her room stayed quiet for a while, as if she was still unsure whether to allow him this window to her privacy or not, but soon enough, the typical sounds of her daily routines returned. With one exception. Never again did he hear her cry. But even though she could muffle her sobs into her pillow or maybe suppress them altogether, the frequent nightmares were beyond her control. In the middle of the night, he would wake up to her screams, and in the morning, her tired eyes and trembling hands cured by the fifth cup of coffee would confirm the distress she always denied if directly asked.

And so their dynamics began to take shape.

Without words, she made it clear she valued his advice and support and needed him near - but at a distance she controlled. It was a double-edged message and a request exceeding his duties as first officer, but born from a conflict he could understand and accept. At that point, he had already fallen for her and although the role she gave him meant burying his own needs until an undefined future, knowing the burden she was destined to carry, the inevitable pain her position would inflict on her, he didn’t hesitate but vowed to help her however he could.

Years passed, their relationship as commanding officers swaying and bending with the currents of their journey but their co-existence as neighbors maintaining a safe and steady course. The light flirting at the beginning of their travel developed into a friendship, fueling his fantasies of a deeper affection and, one day, perhaps even a lifelong commitment. For a few precious months, New Earth turned those fantasies into reality, the bliss of their togetherness filling him with the kind of profound contentment that rises when one’s heart finds its home, only to come to an abrupt and absolute end. Back on Voyager, she shut him out faster than she could reclaim her captaincy, and his dreams shattered into a confusion and a struggle to understand her increasingly reckless decisions and almost blind determination to get back to Earth. He saw the darkness creep over her, watched the walls around her grow into a fortress, the hardship and losses forging the softness of her younger self into a steel-willed leader, hell-bent on fulfilling her promise to her crew.

The only crack in her armor, the one detail that sustained his faith in her and them, was the connection between their quarters, like a secret passage to her true self. Despite her spiral into solitude he was helpless to prevent or change, she didn’t sever that link and, for him, the fact that she still welcomed him into her private life meant that at least part of his Kathryn, the woman he had pledged his allegiance, his service, and eventually his heart, remained. Somewhere beneath her distant, untouchable composure, her warm, vulnerable spirit persevered, waiting for easier, happier times to emerge again. Whenever that happened, he would be there for her.

For five years, he took solace in the mundane sounds keeping him company, reminding him of the person she was, and serving as his beacon on a journey where tomorrow was all too often lost in a fog. Five years of peace, hope, and a direction.

Then they entered Devore space.

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

Long before the border, several species warned against any kind of interaction with the Devore and the first contact proved every rumor to be true.

The Devore warships were much larger than Voyager, their weapons more powerful, and their officers merciless, unresponsive to diplomacy. Following their strict laws, set to hunt down and capture all beings with telepathic abilities, they boarded Voyager without negotiations and searched the entire ship only to find nothing, much to the annoyance of the tall, dark inspector who had made himself comfortable in the captain’s seat.

Shifting his full focus to Kathryn like she had suddenly changed from insignificant to something worthy of his attention, he measured her from head to toe with a sly smile caressing his lips, then stood, announcing Voyager free to proceed on the approved route. As a farewell, he kissed her hand and complimented her beauty, surpassed only by her intellect, in a gesture that was as grand as it was chilling, then left the bridge reminding them once more of the consequences of disobedience: death or life in prison.

To her credit, Kathryn didn’t even blink. Not at the open threat, nor at the obvious spark of interest the inspector didn’t bother to veil, an interest that was alarming on a whole new level. If there had been any other way, Chakotay would have pressed her to turn back without delay, but the Devore Imperium was too vast to go around and the telepath refugees hiding in cargo bay one still relied on their help.

After that first inspection, a constant state of alertness settled upon the crew, creating an edge to the previously confident, professional atmosphere. Kathryn, however, submitted to the authority and reign of the Devore with surprisingly little discomfort. Considering how strongly Voyager was her ship and how she had always taken deep pride in her power and responsibilities as captain, Chakotay had expected to see more resistance from her part.

Initially, he thought her calm acceptance was only a mask, meant to signal everyone that even though they were basically held prisoner on their own ship, their lives hanging at the mercy of a ruthless, unpredictable Devore officer, they would survive and soon regain their freedom. Underneath, she had to be as terrified as the rest of them, dreading for that one mistake, real or falsified, that would be the end of Voyager. But then the Devore ships returned, ordering them to prepare for being boarded again, and the reasons for her composure began to unravel.

The smug voice through the comm called her to her ready room and she obeyed without hesitation. Furious to see her treated like a servant and worried for her safety, Chakotay watched her get up from her command chair. Like so many times when she was bracing for battle, her eyes narrowed, her chin lifted, and her shoulders locked in a straight line. But then, he saw something he would have easily missed if his focus had drifted. A flush of excitement on her cheeks.

Perhaps he should have been surprised, horrified, even, but he found he was neither. In the strange narrative that was their life in the Delta Quadrant, her reaction made sense.

All alone at the other end of the galaxy, their position had been fragile, to say the least, yet despite the encounters with numerous hostile species, they had prevailed, sailing through the quadrant five years victorious. Without Starfleet command to breathe down her neck and keep her in a leash, she was accountable to no one; her decisions, no matter how risky, outrageous, or plain wrong, for no one to judge. With the Devore, for the first time in ages, someone more powerful was keeping her in check, someone who didn’t bow to her rank, share her ideals, or care for her wishes. And for her, that meant the ultimate challenge.

Only this wasn’t a challenge won with learning local customs and reading subtle nuances in the negotiation table, or with the direct use of threats, torpedoes, and maneuvers both rehearsed and invented in the heat of fast-paced battles in the deep, dark space. It wasn’t even an issue settled between Voyager and the Devore. 

This was personal.

The weapons were her body and her mind, the stakes nothing less than her life, because the cold, hard truth was that if she were to fail in her gamble, the outcome could be even worse than the alternatives presented to them. With the advantage of his ships and position, the inspector might choose to keep her and only her, and send the rest of Voyager on their way and there wouldn’t be a single thing they could do to change her fate. How could she lack such a basic instinct for self-preservation to not see this?

The woman she had been when they first met would have flinched away from the Devore and everything he represented, yet the woman who had walked into the ready room appeared almost eager to dive head-first into the fire. Did she not understand the risks? Or was she so convinced she could handle him? Or, a small voice at the edge of his consciousness whispered, was she pulled to him by a force stronger than reason?

From the day they had met, he had sensed an undercurrent in her, a darkness looming just beneath the surface of the exemplary Starfleet captain. A recklessness, yes, an absence of fear, but also something more, a lack of respect for pain, like death itself was only an insignificant sidetrack in life. Deep down, he believed this trait was a reflection of her depression, something that could be alleviated, if not by conventional means of medicine she would no doubt reject, then with kindness, compassion, and endless patience. But regardless of his best efforts to offer her that gentle care in whatever shape or form she happened to accept, the darkness inside her kept growing thicker, a darkness inescapably drawn to danger and power.

Inspector Kashyk was the embodiment of both.

Chakotay didn’t like to think of himself as jealous. The sentiment was juvenile, pointless, and threatened the inner peace he had managed to build. Kathryn wasn’t his to claim. She had given him no promises, no matter how much his romantic heart longed to believe the months spent on New Earth had sealed their lives together. They were both free to pursue other people, as they had done. But that second time Mahler faded into a moment of ship-wide quiet as the Devore troops left Voyager, the sight of Kathryn emerging from her ready room was a solid punch in the gut. Even though she was barking out orders to bring the telepaths out of transporter suspension, her eyes flaming with humiliation and her voice strained with suppressed rage, beneath that exterior he recognized another kind of response to her conversation with the inspector, completely instinctive, deeply primal, hammering home just how naïve he had been.

She wasn’t only excited. She was aroused.

* * *


	3. Chapter 3

Knowing her impulsivity, he couldn’t stay silent. The first chance he got, he asked her to talk with him in private and told her of his worries. That he had seen the Devore officer’s interest in her and that he had a terrible feeling about it. That maybe she shouldn’t meet him alone anymore, but have Tuvok or Ayala or himself by her side at all times.

She regarded his pleading expression and restless hands with a calm curiosity and, for the briefest moment, there was a glimmer of warmth in her eyes, like an echo from the past. Then the connection, if there had really been any, broke and she dismissed his concerns, saying Kashyk’s fascination was their best option at the time being, hopefully enough to distract him from his goals and to make him forgive the deviations from their strict rules Voyager was bound to make. A closer relationship with the inspector could very well mean the difference between life and death, for everyone on board. Besides, she added, throughout history, women had used their natural assets to influence their enemies and to steer the destinies of entire nations. This situation was no different.

Too stunned at her bleak review of their status and her role in it, he didn’t manage a single objection. He had obviously misinterpreted her core motivation and if the thought of her possible attraction had been alarming, this was even worse. Diminishing her worth into nothing more than a tool to ensure their success was beyond comprehension. Then again, the small voice inside him reminded, wasn’t this how she had become to perceive herself? In the equation of survival, didn’t she always place the well-being of her crew above her own, hardwired to sacrifice herself in a heartbeat if required? The change had been gradual and while he wasn’t to blame, he hadn’t been able to prevent it either, and, if he was truly honest, maybe the repeated failures in attempting to keep her afloat had eventually taught him to turn a blind eye to her self-destructiveness.

If there had been time, he would have convinced her there was another way, but all too soon, Kashyk came back, only now without his army or his uniform. None of them bought his weak explanations, not for a second, but when he requested asylum on the ship, Kathryn took him in, against recommendations and to everyone’s surprise. And with that decision, Chakotay was forced to witness the tension between his captain and their enemy unfold, the complicated dance of seduction and destruction played before him to the last frantic note.

Despite the fear settled around his throat, Chakotay couldn’t help but admire her skill in orchestrating the show. All strings remained firmly in her hands, from start to finish. Day after day, she worked in close collaboration with the inspector, creating an air of openness and trust, but simultaneously, she kept her crew secretly informed of their progress, plotting in advance should the Devore turn out a fraud after all. On an unspoken level, she quietly utilized means far more personal - and far more dangerous.

He saw how she let her eyes linger on the self-assured inspector, how her lips curled into an approving, crooked smile at his wit. He shivered inside every time she leaned near the man or touched his chest, a gesture he had foolishly thought was reserved for him alone, and when she suggested they continue their late-night discussions in the mess hall where it was more comfortable, Chakotay spent the evening in the boxing ring. Sleep evaded him until she retired to her quarters way past midnight and, in the silence, he could have sworn he heard singing.

Whether her act was only a ploy to gain a tactical advantage or fueled by genuine attraction, he couldn’t tell. She was that good. Nevertheless, even if there was a certain chemistry, he was sure she would never surrender to him, not when the man in question was an arrogant, violent man responsible for destroying hundreds, maybe thousands of innocent lives. But the path she had chosen was risky to begin with and more so with each day that passed by, the heat between the two coiling tighter, urging him to confront her once more.

This time, there was no warmth in her eyes. Only a long, cold stare, a dead silence, and unveiled pity.

“What makes you think I’m doing this solely for the benefit of the ship?” she asked, speaking slowly, explaining as if to a child. “He is a man, a very attractive man, and if there’s no harm to our mission, I intend to enjoy my time with him. And that, Commander, is none of your concern.”

Her words barely registered at first, his mind numb at what she insinuated, but he did feel her contempt, undeserved, unexpected, prickling his skin like daggers. He opened his mouth only to shut it again and looked away, the venom radiating from her too much cope with. She didn’t even bother to dismiss him, only pushed past him to return to the bridge like the whole conversation was a minor irritation she would soon forget.

Seconds turned into minutes as he stood still, his gaze mapping the familiar elements of her ready room, in search of the reality he had taken for granted, now turning to dust. He didn’t know what he had expected, what he had the right to expect, but it sure as hell wasn’t this. True, her private life was none of his business, but he wasn’t trying to tell her what to do, only to advise and protect her. Or was he? In the constant turmoil of the past days, his emotions refused to be analyzed.

Both the boxing ring and the vision quest proving useless in finding the peace he desperately needed, he retreated to his quarters and went to bed early. A few hours later, he woke up to the noises from her room.

A thump and a cry. Remote and obscure.

He startled awake, unsure what exactly he heard, or if he heard anything at all.

A voice, too low to be hers, mumbling in a feverish tone.

He froze, the barriers set years ago still firmly in place, repressing what he already knew.

A silence and a slap, sharp as a whip, a muted struggle and breaking of glass.

He shot up from his bed and grabbed his clothes.

Another cry, suffocated midway, and a groan of relief, its meaning seeping through the bulkhead like a stain.

But as he was reaching for his combadge to call for security, something inside demanded him to stop. An intuition he’d been ignoring, now insisting to be heard. Over the wild beat of his heart, he sharpened his senses, straining to hear.

A long moan, followed by a string of curses. Another thump, this time against the wall dividing their quarters, and a scream so clear he could have been in the same room. But then a sound of utter satisfaction, a throaty moan that arrowed straight through him, because even though he had never heard anything close to such a sound from her, he had no trouble recognizing Kathryn’s voice.

Caught in the whirl of horror and disgust and a wave of dark lust rising unwanted, torn with indecision and hating himself for it, he could not move a muscle. Not to run and save her, if she needed saving in the first place, nor to save himself from witnessing the heated scene playing not two meters from him so intense and violent that the memory would be carved into his consciousness for the rest of his life.

‘Not your concern, Commander,’ he heard her say, and yet there she was, making her intimate power play very much his concern. Knowing Kathryn Janeway, that was not a coincidence.

Her moans came choked, as if her breath was blocked, each slap of flesh against flesh joined with foreign words spat out like insults. Then she suddenly gasped for air and he heard her speak, harsh and ragged and clear as crystal.

_Harder, you fucking piece of shit. Don’t tell me this is all you’ve got?_

And finally, the puzzle was complete.

She didn’t need rescuing. She didn’t need support. In fact, she didn’t need anything he had to offer. Maybe the woman she had been, the one who had pressed her palms on his chest, gazing at him, smiling like the sun, and told him that she couldn’t imagine a day without him, had needed something from him in that now distant past, but not the person she had become. Somewhere along the way, this stranger had sneaked into her place, looking and acting like the woman he had fallen for, but without her heart, without her warmth, and he had been too blind to see that the feelings and hopes he still harbored were wrapped around darkness, clinging onto nothingness.

He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, the coarse sounds from the next room fading into a distance as he retreated into himself, caught in the turbulence inside him but searching for a path to the surface not to drown with her. 

In some twisted logic, perhaps this was her last gift to him, the only thing she was able to give. To break down the wall between them and push him away with both hands and all her strength, so hard and so far, that he would be freed of her spell once and for all, saved from the poison she had become.

Surrounded by the quiet in his mind, finding comfort in the slowing, calming beat of his heart, he found he was beyond caring of her motives.

In the end, letting go was surprisingly easy. With the fortress around her torn and the fantasies of the woman waiting inside shattered, he had little reason to stay. Steady and sure, he got up, pulled on the rest of his clothes, and walked out. Into the corridor, into the light. And with each step further away from his old quarters and her, breathing became that much easier. As if emerging into the sun and air after years held underwater. 

One day, he would have to thank her.

* * *


End file.
